And we thought Vietnam was dirty!!! Welcome to India!!! We had made a plan to go to town with Bill and Debbie on the ship’s shuttle bus. There was a long bus line and we had to stand in a black muck on the ground. We couldn’t figure out if it was oil or tar or just the blackest dirt we’d ever seen. The driver had put paper on the steps up into the bus so we wouldn’t track it in, but that plan didn’t work. The black goo was on the bus with us all the way into town.
The ride into town was shocking as well. Garbage was everywhere, traffic was extremely heavy and not very orderly, and there were people EVERYWHERE. There are over 1 billion people in India and the country is about 2/3 the size of the US. There were people sleeping on the streets, on the sidewalks, on the one beach we passed. There were deformed people on the sidewalks with their hands outstretched for money. Bicycles and motorbikes were parked on the sidewalks so the ladies in their beautiful saris and Punjabis had to walk in the filthy gutters to get around them. City buses were crowded with people; men on one side of the aisle, women on the other. Huge modern billboards lined the streets as if we were on Madison Avenue instead of a street lined with hovels and semi-demolished buildings and tenements and slums. To my great relief, it didn’t smell nearly as bad as it looked. Most of the people on the shuttle would rather have stayed on, but all except two of us got off at the end of the line.
We were dropped off at the Taj Connemara Hotel, an oasis in the middle of a crowded street. The hotel was spectacularly beautiful. A doorman in a turban and white jacket greeted us and we went inside to use the one and only restroom we would be brave enough to venture into that day. Then we set out to find the market that was nearby. I realized after about 30 seconds that I couldn’t look at my surroundings as I walked for two reasons: one was that the sidewalk was so full of holes and humps and tree roots that I was in grave danger of tripping and falling into the putrid muck and the other was the people accosting us to take us somewhere or sell us something or in some way trying to get our attention. If you look them in the eye they glue themselves to your side and won’t let go. It was frightening and exhausting. In just the two short blocks we had to go to reach the “mall”, we saw two badly deformed men pleading for money and the vision is still haunting me. One of the men was sitting on the ground and he looked as if he didn’t weigh more than 50 pounds. He was just a living skeleton with a thin layer of skin, no feet, and a large head. He looked at us with his hand out and a beatific smile on his face. Bill was so affected by him that later he and Ed went back and gave the man some money.
Debbie and I went shopping for clothes and I ended up buying myself a Punjabi, which is a pair of pants with a tunic over it and a matching scarf. It’s the same style as the one the girl in the picture is wearing. Bill, who is an expert on Oriental rugs, found a carpet shop and we spent quite a while there with him as he chose a rug. The shop also sold “singing bowls” and I snapped a picture of Ed learning to play one.
We decided that was enough of Chennai for us so we went back to the hotel for a beer. There was a lovely bar there and we saw some of our shipmates and had a nice time before taking the shuttle back. We now know why our port lecturer, Barbara, told us to go to India with an open mind and an open heart. It’s not an easy place to visit. But there was an upside to it as well. The people we met, which weren’t many, were very gracious and gentle and friendly: the driver of a bus that pulled up alongside ours who smiled and waved and grinned when I took his picture; the sweet, lovely girls in the shop where I bought my outfit; John, the young owner of the carpet shop, who was funny and smart and handsome and sent one of his helpers to escort us back to the hotel; the young man from Kashmir who so patiently helped us learn to play the singing bowls; the barmen at the Taj who gave us great service and presented us with a gift when we left. That is what we’ll try to remember the most about our visit to Chennai.
We are now on our first of three sea days before we reach Mumbai. Some say conditions will be worse there, but we won’t be on our own; the first day in Mumbai we have a tour with our Virtuoso group and the second day we fly to Agra to see the Taj Mahal.
The ride into town was shocking as well. Garbage was everywhere, traffic was extremely heavy and not very orderly, and there were people EVERYWHERE. There are over 1 billion people in India and the country is about 2/3 the size of the US. There were people sleeping on the streets, on the sidewalks, on the one beach we passed. There were deformed people on the sidewalks with their hands outstretched for money. Bicycles and motorbikes were parked on the sidewalks so the ladies in their beautiful saris and Punjabis had to walk in the filthy gutters to get around them. City buses were crowded with people; men on one side of the aisle, women on the other. Huge modern billboards lined the streets as if we were on Madison Avenue instead of a street lined with hovels and semi-demolished buildings and tenements and slums. To my great relief, it didn’t smell nearly as bad as it looked. Most of the people on the shuttle would rather have stayed on, but all except two of us got off at the end of the line.
We were dropped off at the Taj Connemara Hotel, an oasis in the middle of a crowded street. The hotel was spectacularly beautiful. A doorman in a turban and white jacket greeted us and we went inside to use the one and only restroom we would be brave enough to venture into that day. Then we set out to find the market that was nearby. I realized after about 30 seconds that I couldn’t look at my surroundings as I walked for two reasons: one was that the sidewalk was so full of holes and humps and tree roots that I was in grave danger of tripping and falling into the putrid muck and the other was the people accosting us to take us somewhere or sell us something or in some way trying to get our attention. If you look them in the eye they glue themselves to your side and won’t let go. It was frightening and exhausting. In just the two short blocks we had to go to reach the “mall”, we saw two badly deformed men pleading for money and the vision is still haunting me. One of the men was sitting on the ground and he looked as if he didn’t weigh more than 50 pounds. He was just a living skeleton with a thin layer of skin, no feet, and a large head. He looked at us with his hand out and a beatific smile on his face. Bill was so affected by him that later he and Ed went back and gave the man some money.
Debbie and I went shopping for clothes and I ended up buying myself a Punjabi, which is a pair of pants with a tunic over it and a matching scarf. It’s the same style as the one the girl in the picture is wearing. Bill, who is an expert on Oriental rugs, found a carpet shop and we spent quite a while there with him as he chose a rug. The shop also sold “singing bowls” and I snapped a picture of Ed learning to play one.
We decided that was enough of Chennai for us so we went back to the hotel for a beer. There was a lovely bar there and we saw some of our shipmates and had a nice time before taking the shuttle back. We now know why our port lecturer, Barbara, told us to go to India with an open mind and an open heart. It’s not an easy place to visit. But there was an upside to it as well. The people we met, which weren’t many, were very gracious and gentle and friendly: the driver of a bus that pulled up alongside ours who smiled and waved and grinned when I took his picture; the sweet, lovely girls in the shop where I bought my outfit; John, the young owner of the carpet shop, who was funny and smart and handsome and sent one of his helpers to escort us back to the hotel; the young man from Kashmir who so patiently helped us learn to play the singing bowls; the barmen at the Taj who gave us great service and presented us with a gift when we left. That is what we’ll try to remember the most about our visit to Chennai.
We are now on our first of three sea days before we reach Mumbai. Some say conditions will be worse there, but we won’t be on our own; the first day in Mumbai we have a tour with our Virtuoso group and the second day we fly to Agra to see the Taj Mahal.
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